Stray
by Lady Shagging Godiva
Summary: Komand'r, from the DC-verse falls into Marvel during WWII. "What's got you so hot?" He wondered pensively. "You avoid human interaction like its leprosy. But you know who Captain America is?" Thinking about Rewriting.
1. Stray

**Disclaimer:** Don't own nutin'. Don't make nutin'.

**Summary: **A Princess from DC falls straight into Marvel during WWII.

**Note: **I rewrote everything I had so far, in case you checked out this story before. I'm taking a villain from DC comics and throwing her into our Captain America movie, before she's recruited to Team Evil.

**Pairing: **Definitely leaning, like horizontally, but I'm open to suggestions. In any case, a definite relationship is a ways off.

**Will use:** Captain America, First Class, Wolverine, Iron Man, Hulk, Thor, Avengers, and a lot of comic books in between. Going by movie plots here, but will get a little AU, comic book-y, and a lot AU in places.

* * *

**Part I  
Chapter One: Stray**

"Komand'r!" The sharp tone of the instructor sliced through her.

She looked up, the fog lifting from her blazing eyes as she caught the harsh disapproval on his face. She panted, her eyes darting around the training room as her heartbeat thudded loudly. The students were motionless, their bodies rigid with horror. She blinked in bewilderment, taking in their faces before she looked down. Her sister was under her, eyes blown wide in shock as she stared at the tightly gripped knife that hung over her chest, interrupted in its poise to strike. It took a moment for Komand'r to even comprehend the scene before the knife tumbled from her nerveless fingers and clattered to the floor. She scrambled off of her sister as she tried to collect herself, to calm her racing heart. Every eye in the room pinned her, dug into her skin like needles as Koriand'r slowly lifted herself upright. Komand'r was caught in her wary gaze, choked under the waves of betrayal she saw there. Two students pushed through the crowd, each grabbing Koriand'r's arms and pulling her away from the circle. Their eyes condemned her. All of them did. Komand'r stayed on the floor, prone and shocked at her own actions.

They were supposed to spar, an easy fight any day as Komand'r was the better fighter. But then Koriand'r cheated. Used her ability for flight, an ability that Komand'r had lost. She remembered something dark and ugly and not entirely unfamiliar uncoiling inside her. Hating that Koriand'r was going to embarrass her, take the little respect Komand'r was able to earn at the Academy on top of everything else. She charged with the knife, wanting to hurt her so badly she couldn't _see. _

The students' whispers starting to buzz in her ear. Everyone knew what she tried to do.

She clambered to her feet, slipping against the slick floor as she raced for the nearest exit. The students parted, dodged out of her way in a parody of the respect they showed her sister.

Her chest was tight as she ran, panic and anger polluting her mind. She sped through the courtyard, turning a sharp corner on the marble as the towering observatory shined through the gloom. They were shocked now, but they would give chase, would hunt her down for her actions. Attempted murder of the heir to the Tamaranean throne was punishable by death. Maybe her parents would dismiss the altercation, but the people…the people would call for her blood.

And what would the King, her _father_ do then? He took away her right to the throne because the people called for it.

She wouldn't stay at the Academy to find out. Wouldn't stay on Okaara to find out.

She only stopped to open the lift doors, sliding into the crisp cocoon and avoiding the reflective surfaces as her eyes stayed on her shaking hands.

Ever since the illness that had robbed her of her ability to fly and stole her birthright she had experimented with cures. Biological, chemical, cell manipulation, energy absorption.

In her search she came across an experiment in one of the labs, portal travel.

It was dangerous, still unstable if the findings were kept secret, but she had faith in Tamaran physiology, knew she could withstand space travel despite her disadvantage. And the labs wouldn't be guarded, her room would, the docks would. She just needed to get away, run as fast as she could off this planet.

Her emotions were frayed as the lift doors opened in the wide hallway, white, sterile, and dimly lit before the motion sensors blinked on. She felt no guilt for using her teacher's code at the security door as they whooshed open.

The room was large, white reflective light bounced off the walls and floor as machinery flooded every available counter. In the middle was a large rounded arch of metal. Thick ropes of black and blue wires webbed the flooring as she cautiously made her way to the control screen. It awakened at the slightest touch, cool under her fingers as a star map appeared on the screen with small numbers scribbling across the surface. Coordinates? She wasn't sure. Besides the most rudimentary knowledge she knew nothing about this project, or how the machine operated.

What she did know was portals needed an energy source capable of supporting the connection.

She knew of one energy source that would work, the Citadel battleship. The enemies of her people.

She hesitated, doubt entering her mind. If she sought the Citadel she would be killed or become a traitor of Tamaran. Or at least…more so than she already was.

The galaxy was bright and beautiful on the screen, a wide expanse of possibilities. There had to be another planet, another civilization out there that would qualify. Her fingers flew across the screen, creating an algorithm for an energy source as her eyes darted back to the rounded arch and the door, wondering if she would survive this mission, if they would catch her before she had a chance to find out.

The instinct to flee was getting stronger, bleeding into desperation as the machine jumped from planet to planet, left the Vega star system all together.

And then, the arch started to pick up a hum. Her eyes darted to the screen in confusion, seeing the machine hovering over a planet without settling on specific coordinates. She was confused and wary, wondering what energy source the arch sensed that the computer was unfamiliar with. The hum increased, the air becoming charged as air rippled between the metal rings. In a daze she left the machine and took slow steps to the portal, watching as a distorted image started to flicker between blinks. It was dark on the other side with streaks of electric blue, but she caught flashes of torchlight through the shadows. A whirlwind picked up, teased her skin and coiled her long red hair around her neck. Her body was being carried forward by the force just as the image sharpened, the picture as clear as the rest of the room was to her. Her breath caught at her success, but then the edges started to shrink inward.

She realized the portal was collapsing, her time was running out. She spared a brief glance at the star map on the screen, tried to see where she was landing. From her position she couldn't read anything definite. There wasn't time to gather information, not enough room for doubt. She bent her upper body and ran, flung herself towards the unknown.

Her nerves flared, a brief feeling of compression as she stumbled to her knees on the other side. Her hands slid against the uneven stone as her eyes caught the glowing blue light that poured energy into the room so brightly she couldn't see anything else. The portal behind her collapsed.

And then it exploded.

* * *

**Note:** In the comic books Komand'r does try to kill her sister in a fight and then defects to the Citadel. Instead the means of her escape picks up on the cube's signature. And now we have an AU!

No knowledge of comic books needed.


	2. Alien

**Note:** Takes place when Schmidt finds the cube in Norway.

Also, Tamaraneans can learn languages by kissing. I'm still wondering on the limitations of that. Does that mean they only learn words that that specific person knew or do they learn the entire language without the cultural significance to slang or idioms, or whatever? Because I can't let her have a power without some drawback. What do you think?

* * *

**Part I  
Chapter Two: Alien**

She picked herself out of the wreckage fairly quickly, dust covered and bleeding as she stumbled through the rubble. Even in a low crouch she was too disoriented to stay silent, rocks dislodging as she slid behind their dubious covering. Her ears buzzed, orange blood dripped in her eyes as she squinted through the polluted air and spied another figure rise from the ruins. White face, black clothing, a box protectively sheltered in its arms as it kicked at the bodies half buried under the stone. She swallowed, caught between a desire to run and stay hidden as she waited for it and more figures in black to depart on loud metal vehicles.

_Where was she?_

She abandoned her covering to search the area. There was a primitive settlement surrounding the site, half destroyed from the explosion. She dug up the bodies around her first. Their skin was pale underneath the dirt, their helmets bent into their skulls grotesquely. All were clothed in black leather with red accents, the same color as the blood that stained their skin. She stared down at the uniform of the second male, wondering at the insignia when she heard unsure footsteps against the rubble and a loud shout.

The man that found her was dirty, clothed in a ratty coat as he stared at her in amazement. Komand'r watched him, part curious and wary as he started rambling in his language. He kept repeating a phrase, tears in his eyes as he gestured to his village. Being Tamaranean she could have kissed him to learn his language, but staring into his leathered and grief stricken face, she did not. Instead she followed him into the village, tried to smile in assurance. Some things were universal.

She learned as much from their reactions to her as her observations of them. When she lifted stones, pushed away half collapsed walls, and carried out men and woman they watched her with such incredibly she knew her strength was foreign to them. All were pale, their hair thin, and their clothes thick as they shivered in the wind. Every time they blubbered through their own language or stared at her with thanks she felt half proud and half loathing. _She _was the reason a quarter of the people she pulled out were already dead.

It was daylight when the survivors were joined in a large barn farther from the village. They had loaded the wounded in carts, pulled by strong creatures Komand'r had never seen before. Everything was so foreign to her she felt displaced among these people. She stood outside the barn as they settled their wounded inside. The sky was a grayish blue, the sun hidden behind thick clouds. She breathed in the clear air in wonderment. She thought, maybe if she focused on everything new, she could ignore the red blood that stained her fingers, the murmuring inside the barn. By now she had shared a kiss of transference with one of the dying, the sensation odd as it hummed through her neurons.

"Excuse me," one of the woman stood at the barn door, a tentative look on her face as she interrupted her reflection. Komand'r nodded to her, her hands falling to her side as she peeked at the crowd behind the woman. "We were wondering, if you…wanted to come inside?"

Komand'r looked back at what was left of the village and then the young woman and the scraps of cloth secured around a wound on her arm before nodding and stepping forward.

The room was somber, those that were able stood in the center waiting her arrival while children, the elderly, and the wounded were sitting along the back wall. Everyone was silent as she walked through the barn, the smell of hay and animal particularly strong.

"Protector-"one of the man addressed as many bowed their heads to her. Her outwardly calm broke in bewilderment.

"Protector?" She interrupted, speaking for the first time and hearing her husky voice flow through the room. Another difference, the tone of her voice much deeper. That and she stood at least a head taller than all assembled.

"Yes," another blinked, many fidgeting as they looked between her and the speaking man. "We mean no disrespect by not addressing you by your title, but…" an uncomfortable look crossed his face as he looked around.

"We're not sure which goddess you are," a woman took over for him.

Komand'r felt her head spin in confusion.

"To be truthful," another male took over with a repentant expression. "Many of us considered the Asgardians nothing but children stories."

There were a few stern looks thrown his way, others nodded.

"Asgardian?" Komand'r repeated with little inflection. The name meant nothing to her, but she was more concerned with what the name meant to them. Was that their term for aliens? Did aliens visit this planet? Did Tamaraneans visit this planet?

This confused the assembly. "Your people," one of them answered her.

"Why do you label me Asgardian so readily?" She questioned, her eyes narrowed in thought.

There was a jumble of voices. Many remarked on her strength and her looks, her height, her clothing, her thick hair, her green eyes, her strange skin.

But then, "You came when the cube was taken."

The answer came from a child. He stepped forward carefully, a shy look on his cherub face as she watched him.

He stood level with her waist, his neck pulled back to stare up at her with curious brown eyes.

"My grandfather," his face scrunched up in grief before he took a quiet breath. Komand'r bent her knees until they were equal height, trying to encourage him to continue. "He said it was our duty to protect the cube. And when the soldiers came-"he halted, staring at her with solemn eyes.

She couldn't ask about the cube, not yet, not when they thought that was her reason for being there.

"What do you know about these soldiers?" She asked gently.

He shook his head.

"Nazis," an elder man informed her in a grave voice. The air became still at the word as Komand'r turned in his direction. His face was craggy with hard life, and blood still lingered on his forehead much like hers did.

"I heard them refer to their leader as Schmidt," another broached.

"And they stole the cube? The one gifted by the Asgardians?" She tried to confirm. This cube must be the blue energy that helped create the portal. She didn't know what to make of the term Asgardian but she knew that energy source was at odds with these people's primitive lifestyle.

"Not gifted," the boy correctly with a headshake. "Entrusted."

She stood back to her full height, all eyes on her as she looked around.

"The cube brought me here," she declared to the crowd truthfully. "But…I am not sure where here is." She twisted her lips uncertainly. "I offer my services in exchange for information. Tell me what you know of the cube, and Asgardians, and Nazis and I will help in every way I can."

They agreed.

Komand'r was too restless to stay for long. She listened to their accounts of Asgardians, though she hardly believed them, as contradictory and fanatical as their tales were. They were too removed from the war to tell her much about the mysterious Schmidt or the Nazis beside gossip. Once they shared their knowledge and she helped rebuild the village, she left.

* * *

**Note:** So, the village thinks she's a goddess. By their logic, Asgardians gave them the cube. The cube was stolen. A strange woman of inhuman strength shows up to help them. So she's Asgardian. If she didn't show up Schmidt would have destroyed the village like he did in the movies.

So now there are witnesses.


	3. Purpose

**Part I  
Chapter Three: Purpose**

There was a little café outside the library. Once it might have been lovely, now it was mostly abandoned, the resources minimal and the patrons even less. Komand'r sat in one of the rigidity chairs of cheap iron as she drank her bitter tea and stared down at her newspaper. The sun was bright today, shining a strong light onto the wrecked cobblestone. Every other building was demolished as rusty bricks poured into the street in mountains. The East End was hit the most but it also had the most abandoned property and the people were less likely to ask questions.

She kept her head down as she turned the crisp pages and waited.

"You're a hard woman to find," a masculine voice announced over her head moments after she caught the shadow on the ground, and even longer since she heard the intent footsteps.

She casually looked up from her paper, her eyes hidden behind her veil as they traveled up his tan uniform to his smiling face. He took off his hat, tucked it under his arm as he pulled out the opposite chair. It scrapped against the ground and the table rocked when he placed his arms across it.

She straightened her back slowly as she observed him. "Oh," she drawled deliberately "That cannot be true, you have had me followed a week now."

His smile dropped before he smoothly recovered, turning his smile sheepish as he flattened his hair. "Sorry 'bout that, we had to make sure you were the woman we were looking for."

"And can I assume this 'we' you refer to applies to more than the three men I've seen?" Her fingers lightly traced the lip of her tea cup as she watched him.

His cheek ticked before he changed tactics, his friendly face now serious and professional. "Are you the woman who lived in Tonsberg, Norway March of last year?"

"Can I ask what you want with said woman?" She could tell the veil unnerved him a little, the way he narrowed his eyes and turned his head to catch her face. Without any facial cues he was left to interpret her mild tone.

"Listen," he lowered his voice and softened his smile "the guards were only there to gather information. We're not the enemy." He stretched his fingers for show. "All I need from you is to come down to the office with me for a witness statement. Anything you can tell us about your experience would help in capturing a criminal organization."

"And that's all you're interested in? A witness statement?" A wry smile twisted her lips, doubt dripped from her voice.

"I'm interested in helping end this war, and your information would help that." He beseeched.

"I don't see the incentive." She turned away from him, her fingers stretched inside her tight gloves as she looked up at the sunny sky. It was maddening having to wear this widow's garb, but without it she was too noticeable. Or perhaps…it was a less questioning type of noticeable, instead of doubtlessly staring at her the humans avoided her visual with superstition.

"I think you do," he said seriously "or else you wouldn't have abandoned the safety of Norway for London. You wouldn't be reading the newspaper so diligently." He looked down at her paper with a raised brow. She darted her eyes down too and felt the urge to laugh.

"Is this the part where you tell me I can come willingly or unwillingly?"

"I prefer willingly." And it was probably the most sincere thing he had said so far.

Her mouth twisted it thought as she drummed her fingers on the table. When she looked up it was with an intent glare. "I'm still waiting for that incentive." She stood up, backing the chair with her legs as she smoothed down her black dress. He took her motion for consent and gave a sharp whistle.

A black, bulky car pulled up to the café, in the front seat were two large men in the same uniform. She cast an amused smile to the man at her side that he couldn't see. He stepped forward to open her door, gesturing for her to step inside. No one on the street paid much attention, their focus on their feet as she climbed in calmly.

She expected a meeting in one of those large buildings with pointed arches, a lavish office of whoever ruled this government. Her eyes turned to the companion on the seat next to her when they entered a residential neighborhood on Baker Street.

Inside the designated white wash three story home there was a beautiful entryway of warm woods, mahogany floors, chiseled railings, and intricate moldings. Her boots lightly stepped on the green rug as she tried to catch any noise in the home with her heightened ears. Upstairs there were soft footsteps. Three sets, maybe four…

"This way," her companion lightly touched her elbow as he moved from the entryway into the long hallway. She blinked in surprise, her eyes darting up the staircase before following his lead. There was an expansive kitchen to her left, though the appliances looked untouched and the counters were taken over with scattered papers. The light fixtures on the wall were turned off, making the house look quiet and shadowed.

Komand'r was staring at the kitchen when the solider gave three solid knocks to the door behind her.

"You can go in now," he announced before placing his hat back on his head and leaving.

She sneered at his back before placing her ear lightly against the door. Soundproof.

When she pushed open the door she saw three men sitting at a round table of a smooth rustic color, a handful of plush seats left vacant between them. There were no windows but the lights gave a nice glow to the room. Two of the men were in what she assumed were expensive suits. She glanced at the one in the military's uniform, recognizing the more pageantry the higher the importance.

"I'm starting to believe I was brought here under false pretenses," she commented blandly.

They all stood from their seats, but the military man didn't seem to know as much about the situation as his companions who shared a glance.

"Do come in dear," the tall one in a gray suit sent a quasi-bow as he gestured for her to take a seat. "I'll say," he put in with a bit more interest when she shut the door with a resounding click "we've been looking for you for quite some time, and to find you were already in London." He shook his head with a smile on his lips.

She stood next to nearest chair, her thigh brushing against the arm as the man continued.

"Best to introduce myself, I am Lord Selborne, this is my colleague Charles Hambro," he gestured to the bald man who gave her a greeting smile. "And this is Colonel Phillips from the United States."

The Colonel extended his hand for a firm handshake, his small black eyes sharp in his rough face.

"And you are?" He asked with a raised eyebrow, making no motion to make her feel comfortable with polite smiles. His voice was different than the other men, a low timber and a little short, his sentence punctuated differently, firmly.

"Wondering what I'm doing here," she shook his hand with equal firmness before sitting down. Her eyes darted to Lord Selborne. His thin mustache twitched as he took his seat.

"I wasn't sure you would to tell you the truth. To hear the reports you're a woman capable of extraordinary feats. I thought for sure you would evade coming in." His tone was almost insultingly humored. Hambro hummed in agreement as he shifted in his seat to look at her more directly.

She rested her palms flat against the desk. "I'm curious about the cube," she answered honestly.

"Cube?" the Colonel interrupted, a displeased expression on his face.

She raised her brows in some surprise, looking to the two reluctant men.

"The cube is a myth," Hambro declared as he sat back in his seat, his hands steeple atop his rounded stomach.

Komand'r scoffed.

"I don't care if Schmidt is looking for unicorns, withholding information can be dangerous for my operation." He gave a steely eyed glare to the two men before turning to her. "What is this cube?"

She tapped her fingers against the desk, looking at him sideways as she answered with deliberate intent. "Conclusively? An energy source created by extraterrestrials."

He stared at her stonily before shaking his head in exasperation. "Forget it," he muttered. The other two smiled, Hambro giving a quiet chuckle.

Her fist clenched. "Is the idea that your species is not alone in the galaxy so hard for you to believe?" She snapped.

"Your species?" He repeated with furrowed brows. His eyes scanned her hidden face and covered body. "Would you mind removing the veil for this discussion?"

"And if it wouldn't trouble you to tell us your name…" Lord Selborne leaded.

She looked at the three men, particularly the challenging gaze of Colonel Phillips before pulling off her gloves. When the first golden hand was removed a stillness went through the room. Komand'r paused to flex her hand before pulling off the other glove. Her hands stilled on her head a moment before she pulled off the veil.

She dropped it to the table, the cloth fluttering as the men sat straighter in their chairs. Hambro's feet hit the floor with a thud as his chair squeaked.

"Do you believe in aliens now Colonel?" She smirked, her green eyes shined with amusement as she took out the pins that held the scarf in place. Each one made a soft _tink_ as she dropped them to the table before the scarf drifted to the floor and her full red hair fell forward.

He blinked a moment. "Darlin," he began gruffly, a blank mask on his features. "Across the pond your skin ain't all that different than the farmhands."

She glared at his denial, even though she knew he was bluffing. The other two men weren't as quick to hide their surprise, their bodies rigid.

"My name is Genevieve," he nodded to Lord Selborne, her voice authoritative as she gave her lie. She was after all a fugitive, though she felt reasonably sure she was deserted on this planet, as horrible as the thought was. It took a moment for him to recover as he continued to stare.

"Did you see the cube?" he shook his head and cleared his throat.

"No," she shook her head in return, red hair brushing against her shoulders as it shined in the light. It felt so good to have it free and unrestrained. "But I know that it exists." She declared resolutely.

"Because your people built it?" He wondered.

"Are you saying she's Asgardian?" The Colonel interjected. He scrutinized her closely.

"Is that what the villagers told you?" She sighed patiently. She sat forward so she could rest her elbow against the table, her head bent so she could play with the ends of her hair.

He didn't answer, just continued to question her with his eyes.

"I am not," she informed them.

"Then how do you know the cube exists?" Hambro questioned quickly.

"It's what brought me to your planet."

Again they squirmed in their seats, and the Colonel ran a hand through his thin brown hair.

"Is that what the cube does?" He questioned with interest, his eyes thoughtful as he processed it.

"It's one aspect," she answered honestly. "I've tried learning about the history of it, but I have no experience with the Asgardian people, if they exist." Her mouth twisted as she thought about it. Asgardians and the cube remained a challenging puzzle she didn't understand.

"Then how do you know its alien?" Hambro questioned again in the same skeptical voice.

She withheld a glare, but let out an explosive sigh. "It is beyond the technology of your people." She raised a sarcastic brow.

"And you think this cube can take you back to your planet?" The Colonel interjected with a furrowed brow.

She looked down automatically, not expecting that question and not wanting her face to betray her. He was trying to figure out her motives, why she was interested in the cube.

When she looked up she kept her eyes averted from theirs, her shoulders still bowed, hoping the act fooled them.

"Can I ask why you brought me in?" She murmured. "Especially if you don't believe the cube exists…" She finally made eye contact with the men.

"The people you helped in the village think of you as a goddess," Lord Selborne stressed. He gave her another once over, his tone not as humored as before and more speculative. "I wanted to meet you, to determine if you were working with Hydra."

"Hydra?" She rolled the unfamiliar word slowly.

"That's the name of Schmidt's operation." The Colonel elaborated.

"Nazis and their mythology." Hambro scoffed to himself.

She repeated the name Hydra in her head so she would remember it.

"And now that you know an alien walks among you?" She ventured.

"Well-"Hambro and Selborne exchanged meaningful looks.

The Colonel cut in, "How do you feel about working with my division to stop Hydra?"

Komand'r blinked rapidly in surprise, her green eyes caught by his weighted stare. _He was offering-_

"Phillips-"Selborne scolded.

"If we really are dealing with alien technology, you'd be an asset to the team." He pressed.

"And what position would I fill?" She wondered curiously. Hambro asked Selborne if the Colonel even had that authority while the Colonel and her continued to ignore them, their full attention on each other.

"What are you capable of?" He countered.

She chewed on the inside of her lip for a second; that question hitting her a little harder than it should before she shook it off. "I've seen how differently woman are treated in this society." She narrowed serious eyes on him. "I'll not be reduced to menial work. If you want my alliance I want to be treated like a valuable member."

It was hard to predict his thoughts by his gruff face before he nodded. "As long as you know this is my unit."

A slight smile curved the side of her lips as she tilted her head at him. "Are you not curious about me, where I come from and why I'm on Earth?"

"Yeah, well" he rolled his eyes "we can gossip later." Then he narrowed his eyes. "All I need to know is you'll do what you can to bring Schmidt down."

Her brow furrowed as she thought about this request. Images of this Schmidt character flooding her mind. "I watched him level a town and then step on the bodies of his fallen comrades." She declared solemnly.

In the silence Selborne finally had a change to interject.

"With all due respect Colonel, we need to address the implications of…" His eyes slid to hers.

"Genevieve?" She offered helpfully, feeling amused.

"_Genevieve_'s," he repeated with slow inflection "particular heritage."

"Apparently she's an alien," the Colonel answered blandly.

"And you can see why that might be troubling to the public," Hambro slapped his hand on the tabletop.

"We'll say she's a half Italian half Irish woman with abnormally tall parents." The Colonel shrugged unbothered as he rose from his seat.

Komand'r swiped her gloves and veil from the table.

"Phillips-"Selborne argued in annoyance as he half rose from his seat.

"If you have a problem with it call the President." The Colonel threw over his shoulder as he motioned her with his head. She pushed back the plush chair, the wheels getting caught by her scarf as she rose and bent to gather it from the ground.

The Colonel was at the door when she gave a superior smile and a mock bow to the two baffled men.

"What made you think I was going to say yes?" She wondered when she caught up to him.

"_Arrogant Americans_," Hambro cursed inside the office as she closed the door behind her.

"You said it yourself," the Colonel turned to make eye contact, a slight smile on his face. "You were curious."

* * *

**Note: **So, the S.O.E. had an operation on Bakers Street. The names are real for that time period (though the personalities aren't). Which is June of 1943 in case you were interested. Which means the S.S.R. have just arrived in London and haven't moved to Italy yet.

**Next: **Genevieve meets Howard Stark and Peggy Carter.  
**  
**


	4. Veil

**Notes:** Tamaraneans in this story all have variations of red hair and green eyes. In Teen Titans it's different, but I purposely went with the comic books to give a darker edge that ties in later.

Bit of a Doctor Who quote and reference in this chapter.

* * *

**Part I  
Chapter Four: Veil**

"Alien?" He repeated, his tone skeptical as he shook his head. His voice was higher pitched than the Colonel's, smoother with youth. She crossed her arms under her chest as they evaluated each other, his brown eyes on her features and her greens passively examining his profile. He was the same height as the Colonel, though leaner, his body languish compared to the rigid stance of soldiers. His hand rose to smooth his thin mustache and run through his dark, slick hair before he stuffed them into the white lab coat, buttoned over an expensive shirt and tie. When he stepped closer on shiny black shoes she rose her chin and stared him down in warning, using her height to intimidate him. His shoulders rolled back as he rocked on his heels, his eyebrows raised almost mockingly.

The base was underground, part of a closed off section of _the_ Underground, taped off from the public. Komand'r might have been impressed if men and woman in wool brown uniforms didn't enter and exit in plain sight. While the cavernous rooms were large, long cement floors and rounded arches with dimmed low hanging lights outfitted for a military operation- machines, maps, and instruments- the smell of dust lingered on the bricks, specks drifting in the air before coating the floor. There were large push brooms in the corner, though she knew the smell irritated her nose far more than theirs. Behind that was the smell of metal as the stale air circulated slowly.

After walking through the base, exposed to humans for the first time in many months, and having them _stare,_ she was annoyed with the redundancy of disbelief.

"Yes, I am an alien." She affirmed in a slow and derisive voice as she rolled her eyes. "You humans are not alone in the galaxy. The universe is vast and complicated and ridiculous, and if we could skip over the culture shock I would appreciate it."

His eyebrows rose before he turned his head to the Colonel. The Colonel balefully stared back, leaning against one of the wide metal tables that took up the room and crossed his arms over his chest. It was only the three of them in the labs, the rest of the personnel cleared out with one barked order from the Colonel.

"Stark meet Genevieve," he introduced in his rough voice, an undercurrent of amusement carefully layered. "Genevieve this is Howard Stark, our military contractor."

"So you are an alien." He leaned his hip against the opposite table, his hands out of his pockets as he thought aloud. She couldn't tell if he truly believed in this statement, his eyes still scanning her features like they were a puzzle. "Why come to Earth? You're a bit inconspicuous for tourism."

"It was not by choice," she informed both men, her tone purposely blasé. "An unstable portal brought me here, from an energy source on this planet."

"Portal?" He repeated the word quickly, his eyes thoughtful.

"It's like a doorway," she simplified.

He smirked, "I know what a portal is, theoretically at least." He sighed. "So, portal, aliens from Mars-"

Her face scrunched up in insult. "I'm not from_ Mars."_

"Okay," he drawled out carefully, palms raised. "Not Mars, apparently there is a class system with aliens."

Her lips twitched, wanting to inform him how low humans ranked in such a system, but she held it back. Still, _Mars._

"What was the energy source? Not human made I'm guessing."

"Correct," she nodded crisply. "I didn't have a chance to analyze it. But here it's known as the Cosmic Cube, and apparently made by a race known as the Asgardians."

"Asgardians?" The scientist raised his eyebrows to the Colonel.

The gruff man nodded, his face pensive. "Schmidt's been quieter since visiting Norway. He's delegated all of his plans to his assassins," there was a dark curl to his lip as he said the word. "Increased his man power, and that factory hasn't delivered any weapons to Hitler. I'm not ruling out the possibility they mighta found something. _Especially_ when an alien is staring me in the face."

"I wasn't staring at you," she negated.

Howard Stark shook his head at her. "I think I liked it better when Schmidt was just crazy."

She waited, shifting her weight in the voluminous dress as they both took in that statement, Stark looking to his blueprints with determination while the Colonel's face remained stoic.

Her attention went to the drawings on the table and the weapon half assembled next to it. She picked it up casually, staring down the barrel.

"Whoa!" He grabbed it from her loose grip, staring at her incredulity.

"I still find your weapons strange," she admitted with a nod to the weapon he clutched.

"Are you sure she should be working with me?" He goggled at the Colonel.

"She's from an advanced race, you might learn something from her." The Colonel seemed as unconcerned as Komand'r.

"Not safety procedure," he muttered.

"Maybe you could describe the weapons on your planet Genevieve?" The Colonel hinted.

At the Academy she learned how to use different weapons, but most were swords, weapons of warriors. And what she knew about advanced weapons, though extremely limited, she was wary to introduce to a less evolved race that was unprepared for them. She'd have to play this carefully.

"I'm not sure how much you would understand. It's impossible to describe something without a basis of comparison." She voiced diplomatically.

"How very Plato," the scientist remarked wirily, but there was a challenge in his eyes, a thirst to proof he could understand alien technology. "I'll try to keep up."

Her mouth twisted as she considered the predicament.

"Your voice is a low timbre for a woman," he commented, looking at her sideways as he set the weapon down carefully.

"My race has lower vocal ranges," she answered slowly, listening to her husky voice in comparison to their own while she dropped her arms to her sides.

He nodded without surprise. "Makes sense, if your race evolved from," there was the smallest of pause "felines."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

A confident smirk came to his pale face at her answer. "The brightness of your eyes, it's caused by a Tapetum lucidum. I imagine you see exceptionally well in the dark."

She didn't visibly react, but she thought he might not be as dimwitted as she assumed.

"So she's a cat?" The Colonel wondered sardonically. He relaxed his crossed arms to rest them on the table behind him.

She twisted in his direction and glared. "No more than you are a primate."

He batted that comment aside, turning to the scientist.

"You think you can work with her?" His tone was back to its usual gruffness, his eyes steely as he assessed the other man.

"Sure," he shrugged, hands back in his pockets. His eyes didn't leave hers for long.

"I understand the eyes and the voice, and maybe the height, but your skin color is a mystery to me." He stared down at her visible golden hand.

She raised her eyebrows. "I cannot stop you from observing and drawing your own conclusions, but I'm _not_ a lab experiment." Her voice hardened.

"No samples?" His voice carefully bland, his hands raised again.

She shook her head. "No samples, those are my terms," she directed to the Colonel.

He nodded back, nothing changing in his expression.

"Good," the Colonel clapped his hands as he stood straight. Then he looked her over.

"I'll send Agent Carter to get you situated. And I'll have a talk about…sensitivity before I send your team in Stark." He nodded to the other man and then to her. "Welcome to the S.S.R."

She inclined her head in acceptance, watching his deliberate strides as he left the lab before turning to the other man. He gave a practiced smile.

"What designs do you want to see first," he spread his arms wide to encompass the large room "bombs, planes, armor, guns?"

She turned her eyes to the weapon he had confiscated from her. "I've seen weapons like these, but not deployed."

He tilted his head before nodding. "Follow me," he faced away from her, walking towards the back of the lab. She followed.

"I think it's best if we let my colleagues resume their work without your" he made a gesture towards her "presence. Though I doubt Phillips will tell them you're an alien, you're still…exotic looking. And that can be distracting to working men."

Her eyes narrowed on his dangerously. Her voice as sharp as a hiss. "Oh? And will you not be similarly afflicted? Should I remain hidden so as not to disturb your sensibilities?"

His brow furrowed, his face puzzled. "Did I insult you?"

"Perhaps you would prefer me to wear my veil." She bit out. Though she had been considering it since walking in the base, she was suddenly violently against it.

He looked at the veil in her grip and snorted. "Can't see how the Ghost of Christmas Future would be an improvement." Then he cringed. "I'm sorry. There's no need for the veil." He opened one of the wooden doors to a smaller room inside. "This is where we test the weapons, you stand here at these stalls, and hit the target across the room," he gestured.

She nodded, stepping up to one of the small tables with dividers one both side and staring at the cushioned walls.

"Alright Genevieve," Stark smiled as he opened a metal case, "this is a handgun, the .455 Webley."

He went through the mechanics of it, and then at her prompting the velocity. Even though the bullets were small, she was alarmed at its vulgarity. At Howard's estimate of 1100 to 1540 feet per second, this tiny warped metal was lethal, maybe even to her. She lost a lot of her speed when she was sick, knew she wouldn't be able to move that fast if she was grounded and the shooter was close. Would it pierce her skin? She warily watched the weapon in his hand as he handed over a pair of earmuffs that she snapped on. She had to pull on her trapped hair as she experienced the hush from blocking her ears. And then he fired. She yelled out.

"Why is it so loud?" She threw off the rubber instrument to rub her ears.

He twisted in surprise, dropping the gun and taking off his own earmuffs.

"Were you wearing them?" He asked in confusion.

She glared at him. "Yes," she hissed.

"But you have sensitive hearing," he sighed, figuring it out as she unclenched her bent body. Her ears were ringing, standing as close as she was to the fired weapon.

The door opened. Genevieve stood up straight, surprised she didn't hear the footsteps at the door. There was a woman standing there, her hip cocked as she held a slew of papers to her chest. She had coiled brown hair, a popular color and style among humans and sharp brown eyes. She wore the same brown uniform as the other woman, adding a personal touch of bright red on her unsmiling lips, a rebellion against the unflattering uniform perhaps. Komand'r herself was tired of heavier fabrics that made her upper body look bulky, and they both had similar body shapes. When she stepped forward on clicking heels Stark shot her an appraising smile.

"Agent Carter," he greeted with a small incline of his head.

She watched his flirtation with interest, and the unchanging expression on the Agent's face. Perhaps the lipstick was warrior paint in its own way.

"Howard," she greeted crisply with a nod, her focus going back to Komand'r as she walked forward.

Agent Carter shifted the papers in her arms, showing no reaction to her first encounter with an alien.

"And you'll be Genevieve?" The woman raised one eyebrow.

"Yes," she nodded, waiting for a comment on her features.

"Well I'm going to assume that isn't your legal name," she tilted her head just slightly, an undercut of humor behind her pleasant British accent. Komand'r blinked slowly without commenting. Agent Carter's smile looked less polite and more approachable now as she set her papers between Howard and her on the table. "You'll need to fill out these forms so we can make your visit here a little more _legal._ I'm afraid there are quite a lot of them. A visa, employment in the S.S.R., rationing, housing if you need it-"she spread out the different documents while Howard thumbed through the stack in front of him. Komand'r stared down at the papers without expression.

"I cannot," she cut off Agent Carter.

They both turned to her, the Agent with an unamused face and Stark with a smirk.

"I imagine you'll have to lie on quite a few of these forms," he waved one in the air.

"I only speak your language," she shook her head, trying to suppress any embarrassment and feeling annoyed.

"Oh," Agent Carter turned back to the forms that were now held loosely in two hands.

Howard perked up in interest. "What kind of writing system do your people use?"

Agent Carter sent him a look before turning back to her.

"That's alright, I'll take care of the paperwork," she looked back down and Komand'r knew she wasn't looking forward to it. "I'll do the basics so you'll have clothing and pay and leave the rest for later." She smiled. "Will you need a room?"

Komand'r nodded at the last question before looking over at the veil she had dropped near the door.

Agent Carter followed her glance. "Unless you're attached to your current wardrobe."

"I've noticed it makes people uncomfortable," she remarked while shifting on her feet.

"Yes," Agent Carter agreed hesitantly. "But you're not hiding any longer. Better to have people stare at you when you can stare back."

Her tone was light but there was a certain judging look, a test to see if Komand'r was strong enough to face public scrutiny. She raised an eyebrow back and Agent Carter gave her a sharp smile.

"Why did you come to London?" Howard interrupted.

"The Colonel already asked that," she shook her head.

"Do we have to share questions?" he wondered, a sarcastic turn of his lips as he looked over at her.

She sighed. "I like information. I could have stayed in the Norwegian wilderness undisturbed if I wanted, but…that cube," she looked to Agent Carter but judging by her face the Colonel had filled her in, or she was good at keeping her thoughts to herself "I wanted to know what it was. If there was a chance a great race existed that I never knew about."

"But why London?" he asked in a quieter voice, not hushed but with a measure of understanding.

"A well-known city, the closest to my location when I arrived here. Plus it was at war, there would be less scrutiny if people saw me."

They both nodded. "Smart," Stark nodded "a little opportunist…" he trailed off, shrugging when she rolled her eyes.

* * *

She didn't realize it before, but once she started wearing the S.S.R. uniform, sans unflattering jacket, and she moved her bed (in a small apartment she now slept in) underneath the wide window, her mood improved. She went so long without feeling the sunlight directly on her skin that she noticed the Earth's sun made her feel different. She couldn't quite describe it, it wasn't more powerful because her strength didn't improve and she couldn't fly again, but it was something.

She wasn't completely truthful when she said she couldn't read the English language, but her knowledge was so limited she preferred to fake complete ignorance. She was learning. And she was learning human anatomy in the hopes of working on medicine. Medicine she knew well, could be an asset. Energy came second.

She walked the four blocks to the base and made for the labs. Now that the air was cooling she bought a coat to blend in, only her face was uncovered and her hair was braided back. The golden skin didn't draw as much attention as the hair did, its bright red colors were sharper and iridescent compared to the thin human coloring.

She pulled on her lab coat when she took a step down into the labs, the coats hanging on hooks near the door. After buttoning over her white blouse and the long brown skirt she looked up with an amused smile.

"Ready to share with the class what you've been working on?" Howard asked. His expensive leather shoes were softer as they touched the ground, his stride slower.

"You haven't figured it out yet?" She smirked fully, pulling her braid out of the coat and flopping it on her back.

"I respect your privacy." He rocked on his heels, thin mustache twitching as he rose an eyebrow.

She laughed, her husky chortle loud as it echoed. A few of the scientists turned at the sound, Howard looked embarrassed standing next to her. "So you haven't been taking peeks?"

"As if anyone other than you could understand those sketches." He muttered wirily, referring to the half English, half Tamaranean writing next to vague patterns and scribbled equations.

They walked to her room side by side to where she had been working on her project. After a few days of shadowing Howard, having him explain his projects, the materials they used, the situations the soldiers were in (which the Colonel took over for that part), and what their goals were, she asked for her own space to work. He seemed glad for the respite, to go back to his own work uninterrupted. Though he stopped by to see her when he 'came up for air' as Peggy called it.

She had a talk with the Colonel, telling him she was more interested in improving the lives of his soldier than destroying the Axis power. She could tell he was passionate about this war, but he understood her viewpoint, and eventually agreed with it. Since then it had taken her three weeks to successfully create her first project, which she was presenting to the Colonel and Howard today.

"I've never written before," she argued to Howard.

"You've said that," he commented in an unconvinced manner. "Your race types."

He did that often, repeated her words back to her so she would elaborate. Sometimes she did, more times she didn't, so she smiled and turned to the knob to enter the room.

"Genevieve, Stark," the Colonel nodded, turning from her blackboard with equations and drawings taped to it. "I expected you five minutes ago." A common greeting when people arrived on time.

"Phillips," Howard greeted as she said "Colonel."

Komand'r kept her body straight until he nodded while Howard calmly walked into the room and took his seat.

"Let's see what you're made of sis," the Colonel took his seat near Howard, the long table overflowing with papers and materials.

Her steps stopped as she turned back to him. "What?"

"Nothin'" he sighed, shaking his head as he gestured for her to start.

"Right," she nodded, walking to the end of the table and unlocking the box, her back turned from the two men. She could hear them breathing as she replaced the key back in her pocket. She turned with the ball in her hand. Both of their eyes zeroed in on it.

"As Howard knows, I disagreed with the deployment of tear gas. This," she lightly squeezed the round object, the skin rubbery with peeks on blue underneath as it lightly gave "I modified it from rubber, there's a membrane in-between that separates the two chemicals. Once you twist the metal," she ran her thumb along the long thin line that ran in the center, turning it in the light to show them. "The membrane will break and the chemicals react to each other." She smiled, feeling excited at her success. Truthfully the idea was inspired by a Tamaranean creature that bloated six times its size when exposed to sea water. Synthetic rubber was the closest she could get to artificially creating the skin.

"What's the reaction?" The Colonel asked, brown eyes intent as he studied the rubber ball.

"A knockout gas," that she learned at the Academy. "Once the metal is twisted there's a twenty second delay before reaction."

"The range?" He asked next, leaning forward subtly.

"Fifteen feet in all directions," she quickly answered. "Then the outer layer disintegrates, everything besides the metal. There would be no way to duplicate it." She knew that was important from what Howard had told her.

"How long would they stay knocked out?" The Colonel pulled in his thin lips, studying the translucent ball that Komand'r rolled in her palm.

"Judging by Agent Callaway's reaction, two hours," she smiled.

Howard snorted, and the Colonel looked subtly amused.

"That's why he came out of here looking dazed," Howard shook his head with a smirk.

"He has the biggest built. I'm not as familiar with the human respiratory system..." She trailed off, shrugging carefully.

"Can we see it deployed?" The Colonel nodded towards it.

"Yes," she nodded quickly. "This one has a harmless colored gas so you could see it." She handed it over to him. He lightly studied it in his palm, passing it to Howard who held it up to his eye before passing it back to the Colonel. "Once you unhook the latch," she motioned toward the darker colored piece "slide it towards the right and then you can throw it or leave it on the table. This one will only take a few seconds."

He raised his brow to her, and she realized she was asking for him to place his trust in her before he flipped the switch and lightly rolled it along the table. It got caught a few inches on top of the papers.

"This isn't going to turn us blue is it?" Howard asked as they all stared at the device.

The gas poofed out, filling the room with the light color blue. Howard starting coughing.

"That was wonderful," he kept coughing. Komand'r blinked her eyes, seeing their silhouettes through the haze.

"Is this going to disperse anytime soon Genevieve?" The Colonel's voice came through the blue clouds, subtle amusement again.

"Well, I forgot the air doesn't circulate here," she admitted sheepishly.

"Let's leave," he announced, his voice drifting towards the door as he coughed.

Komand'r grabbed onto Howard's shoulder, steering him away from the table and through the door. The blue clouds followed them out when the door opened, wisps of blue drifting to the high ceilings.

The Colonel stood outside the door, a smile on his rough face. "Let's go to Howard's office."

Howard stood fully, took a full breath and smiled at her.

"Sorry," she apologized with a grimace, releasing his shoulder and following the Colonel.

"Can't plan for everything," he waved off. Then his lips twitched. "Shouldn't have leaned forward."

"Well," she smiled, turning her head as she entered the office. "Your clothes are blue free."

"I was expecting the membrane to explode," he tilted his head as they each took their seat. The Colonel was interested in Howard's statement, turning to face her.

"It doesn't explode, it melts," she corrected.

"How does it produce enough heat to melt rubber?" Howard's eyebrows were drawn in confusion.

"It's not technically rubber," she shook her head.

"Every conversation with you in a riddle," he leaned back in his chair with a sigh, shaking his head back at her.

"All woman are like that," the Colonel deadpanned. He turned to her. "Could these be used for explosions?" He asked seriously.

"It would make it unstable in transport," she answered honestly. "The membrane is too thin."

"But you could thicken it," Howard commented with a raised brow, his voice slow.

"It's your choice Colonel," she voiced without inflection.

He nodded, he knew her position. "How quickly can they be made?" Though his eyes were small, they were as sharp as a hawk.

"Depends on who's making it, who you trust to know how." She would prefer if she was the only one, but she knew when she made it that she would give it to the Colonel.

"Just you?" he asked.

"Thirty a week," she estimated, thinking it over.

"A team of three?" He watched her face carefully.

"At least double that." She nodded.

It was quiet as he mulled that over, his hand tapped on the desk before he nodded. "I want you to stay here while we're in Italy, you can be the liaison for Stark while you manufacture the…" he tilted his head. There was a pause before she realized what he was asking.

"I didn't name it," she shook her head lightly.

"It's yours doll, you have to name it," Howard smiled at her. She frowned at him.

"Knockout ball?" She shrugged, her voice unconcerned.

The Colonel nodded agreeably. "Howard, out of your men that are staying pick two for Genevieve."

She wondered why he did that, said her false name so often. She didn't ask though.

Howard nodded and the Colonel clapped his hands with a smile at her. She felt…happy, warm under his approval. Something about his demeanor, gruff and authoritative, but compassionate reminded her of Tamaranean warriors.

She narrowed her eyes at the table, her jaw clenched to stop herself from giving a beaming smile back.

* * *

**Note:** Don't know if I did Howard justice.

Steve is in the next chapter when Komand'r goes to a Captain America show and sneaks back stage.


	5. Who Are You?

**Note: **Something tells me my pairing is going to become obvious in this chapter. Though it's a slow burn as far as establishment goes.

Also Komand'r is different in this chapter. Nicer. She won't always be, but you know how you act differently around different people? Plus she's been hiding for almost two years, and finally feels a kinship. She excited, and socially awkward, and still disbelieving.

* * *

**Part I  
Chapter Five: Who Are You?**

The lights were off as she sat on a cushioned stool, her back to the mirror.

The dressing rooms were away from the stage, along a stretched hallway with wooden doors and posters of performers. They were conveniently deserted, making it easier to peak at the individual doors until she found one labeled 'Captain'. She grinned at her success, her ability to read English – if not write it – had improved. She could feel the music of the performance drift through the halls, the excitement of the crowd cheering vibrating in her ears as she slipped into the doorway. Her eyes explored the dark room, the overstuffed couch, a partition placed near a rack of clothes, and the stool in front of the large mirror. She shed her unnecessary coat, took a seat, and waited. There was a trunk near her feet that she toed gently, and a sketchbook resting on the vanity under the mirror. She left it alone, not out of respect for privacy but for the thrum of excitement that ran through her veins.

She almost didn't come to the performance, she kept thinking. She almost left during it too. This current USO circuit was on its way to Italy, to see the troops under the S.S.R. She heard the technicians gossiping about it and on sudden impulse wondered what human performances were like. She was still wary of crowds, but she took one of the available tickets anyway. And now…

She waited. The applause died down, and soon she could hear movement in the hallway, clicking heels, excited voices, shouted orders. No one opened the door. She bounced her toes, her fingers gripping the sides of the stool as she bent her body forward and held it perfectly still, listening…listening…until:

The door opened, a flood of light hitting the couch as a tall man entered. Komand'r was in the corner, not breathing as he shut the door behind him, released one sigh before flipping the light switch.

He was taking his mask off, a felt piece that hid everything but his strong jaw and eyes. It was still in his hands, his golden hair mussed when his body stilled and he turned in her direction. She hadn't moved but for a whisper of cloth, and he heard. His cerulean eyes, as clear and vibrant as a cloudless day snapped to her face, wary, assessing, and surprised.

She smiled, beamed, more fully than she could ever remember, a lightness in her chest and a thrill under her skin.

"What are you?" The question spun out of her mouth. He blinked. "Sorry is that rude? Who are you?" She corrected, jumping to her feet and stalking to him. He was the same height as her, equal as she loomed into his face, her green eyes shining as they took in his crystal gaze.

"Excuse me? Ma'am?" He didn't lean back, but he was confused, his eyes wide. His skin was pale but there was a light pink flush under the skin. His bottom lip was red, his nose straight, his eyebrows a sandy blond color as his hair fell to his forehead. She blinked, pulling her head back to give them some space so they were no longer breathing in the same air.

The costume had a star and stripes, colored in a navy blue, red, and white. The red was harder for her to differentiate, she knew colors but the shades were all the same in her eyes when stationary. His shoulders were broad, hulking almost the way they rounded out. His hands were raised near his tucked in waist, palms up as if preparing to guide her away or discourage moving closer again.

"Krypton?" She wondered. His baffled look didn't change. "No? Daxamite?"

"I'm sorry ma'am," he shook his head at her, a small movement. His voice, firm but soft, an accent that layered his words uniquely. "But are you allowed to be here?"

She laughed fully, her body still vibrating as she watched him. "In this room or on this planet?" She smirked mischievously.

His brow creased, a line between his eyebrows forming as his face moved into a familiar expression. A thinker then. "I feel like we're having two conversations." He said with some exasperation.

"Most likely," she acquiesced, the grin still on her face. "Are you human?" She asked in wonderment, her head tilted to the side as she leaned in again. His hands went to her waist, or her body leaned into his hands, before he pulled them back quickly to his sides. His face was confused, and a light flush bloomed under the skin. "You are…" she whispered, completely mystified.

Her mind was buzzing. "Evolution?" She wondered aloud. "A mutation in your genes that gives you superior strength?" Now her brow wrinkled, her eyes intent on his as she looked up. "Do you notice any differences in sunlight? Is it heightened by emotions? Age?" Humans with _"mutations!"_ She marveled. "I wonder how many…"

"It's not evolution," he cut off. She wheeled back to him, unaware she had drifted away a few scant inches. He still held a layer of confusion, but his face was so expressive she could see he was equal parts baffled and intrigued. "And I'm supposed to tell you the motorcycle was suspended by wires invisible to the crowd."

She scoffed. The motorcycle act, a finale of sorts was when she pulled away from the back wall and sneaked backstage. Humans were not capable of lifting the heavy metal - plus two woman who were seated on top - fully over their head. Not as easily as he did.

"It's not really a mutation either, or at least not a natural one," he continued. His eyes slid to the couch and then back to her. She felt weighed and measured under his gaze, completely different when others noticed her. It was like…like he was trying to figure out_ who_ she was instead of _what _she was.

"If you're not allowed to tell me, why are you?" She wondered.

He smiled, boyishly, a flash on straight white teeth as he ducked his head a second of a degree. "I'm not a very good liar." He shrugged one broad shoulder. "And you don't look easily discouraged."

She quirked a quick smile, toned down from the beam she greeted him with. Then she frowned. "What do you mean it's not natural?" Her eyes widened. "Did someone experiment on you?"

"Yes, no," he corrected, shaking his head. "I volunteered."

"Volunteered to be experimented on?" The words came out disbelieving, the idea a foreign concept to her.

He smiled again, small, shy, almost embarrassed. "You should have seen me before."

She blinked at him. His voice captured her, the natural, unpolished way he formed words. Why would he allow himself to be experimented on? Why? When? Who? How?

"Do you mind if I sit?" he gestured to the couch.

She shook her head, backing up a few steps to allow him room to walk around and take a seat. He dropped the felt hat next to him, leaned forward so his forearms rested on his strong thighs. She looked down, at the fabric that hugged him and the way he tilted his head up to look at her. It was a strange position, but she couldn't think why.

"Can I ask who you are? The woman who burst into my dressing room." He smiled, open and naturally charming.

"I'm…" she paused, biting the inside of her lip before releasing it. His blue eyes were patient and interested "not quite sure yet." She gave a soft laugh. "That sounds inanely philosophical."

He smiled back, understanding. "I'm Steve. Steve Rogers."

"Genevieve," she nodded back. He reached his hand out, hers was clenched around the fabric of her trousers before she caught on and shot it forward. They shook, his were lightly calloused, larger than her own, and firm. She stared at their hands, his pale and hers golden, holding his a few beats too long as she stopped thinking.

"Like the saint?" He asked, his hand dropping, his forearm going back to his thigh.

"Saint?" she parroted back, not understanding what he was asking. She knew the word in a vague sense.

He smiled. "Catholic school."

She didn't think that was much of an explanation. "I feel like we're having two conversations." She repeated back to him.

"Sorry," his hand rose to the back of his neck, his head ducking that tiny degree again. A smile still on his red lips. The top one was thinner.

The girls in the show walked past the door, their chatter interrupting the moment as they talked about the cute children in the crowd, and how few there were.

Her eyes went back to Steve. "Are there more like you…" she trailed off in question, pulling the stool forward to take a seat across from him.

"Just me," he answered.

She nodded, something about his distant eyes or layered voice prompted her to say, "I know the feeling."

There was a weighted pause.

"So…" his elongated the word, his hand making a gesture near his knee. "Where are you from?"

She hesitated before giving an unconcerned smile. "Out of town. You wouldn't have heard of it."

"And everyone there…" he nodded towards her "looks like you?" She could tell he was trying to be delicate.

She was going to nod, because it was true more or less before she stopped. "How _do_ I look?"

"I'm sorry?" his eyes were wider again, his body straightening.

"To humans," she explained, waving her hand to him and the doorway. "I've never asked."

"You look…" his voice tapered off. She waited, which caused him to sigh. "Well, when I saw you, I thought, you look like the Birth of Venus." There was a definite flush to his features now. His eyes were almost apologetic. "It's a painting. I-"

There was a squeal outside as someone said, "I can't believe you!" in a giggling voice. Komand'r jolted, her eyes going to the door and back to Steve. He didn't meet her eyes, whatever he was going to say now lost. She felt disappointed.

"I almost left," she confessed. He looked up. "The show I mean. My nose is very sensitive, and that smoke," her nose wrinkled in disgust. That's why she was at the back wall, hidden in a shadow so the ushers wouldn't notice.

"I never liked it either," he smiled back. "But then, I had asthma."

Asthma, she repeated in her head, a word she didn't recognize.

There were a few knocks on the door, a tapping of knuckles as multiple high voices called out, "Bye Steve!"

He looked embarrassed when she caught his eyes. She realized for the first time that she was keeping him from going home.

"Are you leaving?" She asked.

"I-"he looked down at a pile of clothes on the back of the couch.

"You're on a tour, yes? How long are you staying in London?" She interrupted, leaning forward in her seat as she pulled her feet up to tuck behind one of the bars of the stool.

He nodded his head to a schedule taped to the mirror. She didn't even glance at it. "Until Sunday. There's another show tomorrow night."

She pursed her lips side to side as she prepared her next question.

"Do you eat? Tam-my race can go longer periods without eating, but we absorb most of our energy through sunlight. I like food though, spicy usually." She fired off quickly.

"I eat," he softly interrupted her.

Her shoulders relaxed in relief.

"There's this restaurant I frequent. The owners are nice, and the patrons refrain from staring…"

"Are you asking…?" His eyebrows rose high on his forehead.

"Not if you rather not." She shook her head quickly. "It's just…you're the most interesting human I've met. Ever since I landed here I've been thinking of how to get off this planet. And I'm…" she knew she was flushing. He was different, human but different, and she needed…something. Someone who was different. Something more sustainable than an Asgardian story. "Oh what is that expression, coming on to heavy?"

"Strong," he corrected. His shoulders relaxed and a smile danced near his lips as he looked away. Then he cleared his throat, looking down at his chest. "Do you mind if I change? And then we can…"

"Yes," she grinned, straightening in her seat.

He stared at her while she continued to beam. Then he looked bemused. "Could you…wait outside?"

"Oh!" She shot to her feet. "Yes! Modesty is an important virtue to you humans. Layers upon stifling layers. Even when it's warm." She turned around at the door, motioning with her thumb. "I'll wait. Outside. While you change."

She stood outside his door, her back to the wall as a few people meandered past. The girls that were left were wearing their day clothes, their arms linked as they walked past. Quite a few jerked when they saw her, others when their eyes went to her position and the door next to her. She stared blankly at the polite ones that looked away and glared at the ones who tried to approach.

Steve came out, wearing a plaid shirt that was buttoned to his collar, a jacket, and khaki pants. His hair was neatly combed and he shot her a smile that looked shy when he saw her.

"How did it feel?" She asked when he stepped closer, their bodies still a yard apart. They both turned down the hallway, her voice softer as she leaned in and their shoulders brushed. "Lifting the motorcycle. It didn't look like you were exerting yourself."

"Do you always jump into a conversation? Say what you're thinking?" His eyes crinkled a little, this close again she noticed the ring of black in his eyes.

She stared at him incomprehensively.

"Okay." His lightly teasing tone, if she read it correctly, left as he dropped his head forward. "I'm not used to…" he bit his lip, his eyes forward as the shoulder nearest her leaned away as his hand gestured in the air.

"You're handling it better than most." She reassured him.

He looked confused, turning to her green eyes. "No, I didn't mean the…alien part. I meant-"he stopped, released a quiet sigh before shaking his head. When he spoke again his voice was more formal. "I wasn't exerting myself. It feels like-"

"Like anything else?" she interrupted, curious.

"Yes," he nodded, before his voice came out more hesitant. "I think."

He nodded to the people he passed. Komand'r didn't even turn. Acknowledging humans tended to draw their attention. The ruder she was, the more unseen she went.

"Is it easier? Lifting heavier things compared to…" she scrunched her lips as she searched for an analogy just as they arrived at a door that Steve opened for her. She smiled as she looked to his hand "turning a doorknob."

"No," he looked down too, twisting the knob a moment before looking up. "Should it?"

She stood in the doorway in front of him, not moving into the alley yet. "Yes, definitely," she nodded. "_Well,_ most likely. I'm assuming you weren't as strong before the experiment."

"No," he answered slowly, looking amused, a corner of his lips lifting up.

"How long ago was it?" He released the knob, leaning his shoulder against the door.

"Five months," he answered promptly.

"Five months?" Her eyebrows shot up as she rocked back. "And you haven't had any mishaps? Breaking furniture? Squeezing someone's hand too hard?"

He shook his head slowly.

"That's…" she lost her words. Impossible. Improbable. Fascinating. Insane. _Who are you?_

"I had spasms," she blinked in interest, nodding for him to continue "in the beginning, sometimes my muscles would twitch or I would turn too quickly."

She hummed softly. "I wonder why you adapted so quickly." She smiled ruefully. "When I was younger, anytime I had a growth spurt it felt like I had to relearn everything. Balance, strength, depth perception, how much pressure to put into every action."

"I didn't have too many growth spurts," his voice was lightly joking again though she didn't understand why. "Just the one."

She was biting the inside of her lip, staring forward before she startled, shooting him an embarrassed smile as she took a skipping step into the alley. He followed, smiling amiably as he shut the door behind him. They both paused there before he took the lead. The air was crisp, the sky the same dark grey as the brick buildings on either side of the uneven pavement.

"I'd like to test out your strength," she announced as she made her way to his side again.

"Like an experiment?" He asked, a hint of wariness as his eyes cut to her.

"More like…" she rolled the words teasingly. "You show me yours, I show you mine."

"You?" His eyes widened as they pulled up to the street. There were still people leaving the theatre, either walking down the street or hopping into cabs. Komand'r turned away from the theatre to one of the black cabs. Steve's arm came from her right, a hairsbreadth from her side as he pulled open the back door. It creaked on its hinges as she slid in, moving against the leather with her hands to make room for him. She gave the address to the driver as he tucked his body in next to her. His hands pinched the fabric of his trousers as the driver pulled out. She watched him, her head tilted before she did the same to her own trousers. She shifted a little, looking up to catch his amused expression.

"So what kind of tests?" He asked, his voice hushed as a soothing song came from the radio.

"Agility, endurance, strength." She answered quickly. "Do you exercise?"

He shrugged, the fabric tightening around his shoulders, curving to define the muscles in his bicep. "I go for runs in the morning, and the gym in the afternoon, if I don't have rehearsal." The last part came out with a measure of embarrassment, his eyes drifting out the window.

She thought about her own exercise, how she had neglected all the training she learned at the Academy. Grown lax, complacent. She was suddenly hit with the realization of her own laziness.

"What do you do at the gym?" she grabbed his attention.

"Punching bag," he replied, the small line between his eyebrows present as his blue eyes turned back to her.

"Can you hand to hand combat?"

"I can box." He nodded.

"Could I join you?" There was a fizzle of surprise, only for a second as he looked at her. "On the run and the gym?"

"You want to spar?" He scratched his forehead, raising his eyebrows to her as he questioned her seriously.

She nodded back.

"I-"he stopped, clearing his throat. "Would that be okay? Do you need to remain inconspicuous?"

She smiled in amusement, her eyes turning to the head of the driver and then to Steve.

"Oh, I've gave that up months ago."

They arrived at the restaurant. Steve held the door for her as she climbed out. Then they both reached for their pockets at the same time, and stopped. Steve had his wallet out, opened in his palm as she held onto the coin purse with her money. She blinked at him and he made an 'uh' noise in his throat.

"You can pay for dinner," she compromised as she handed over the right change to the driver. The food wouldn't be more than ten shillings between them. The driver had his first look at her as she leaned into the window and he blinked in confusion, shaking his head as he took her money.

She pulled back with a smile at Steve, her head tilted to the restaurant.

He sighed as he put his wallet away.

Steve looked comfortable in the small establishment while Komand'r was greeted on her way to her familiar table. She ordered tea, Steve water as they sat across from each other. She came with Howard once, but he didn't seem to fit, too used to finer dining to sit comfortably in his expensive clothing. Komand'r knew the more you paid the higher the scrutiny so she always said no when he asked her for dinner. They both tended to skip lunch, sharing meals with Peggy when she dropped food in front of them.

Steve smiled politely, openly, friendly, to the owner Komand'r had gotten to know as he ordered. He seemed embarrassed a moment when he ordered two poultry dishes while Nancy softly told him about the rationing restrictions.

"And the same for you love?" Nancy twinkled her soft hazel eyes at her. Komand'r ordered Shepherd's pie every time.

"Yes," she nodded, and then added "ma'am" because Steve punctuated his sentences with it.

Nancy smiled in amusement as she turned away and Komand'r ducked her head to the table as she looked up at Steve.

"I've only eaten in the hotel since I've been here. I forgot about rationing," he explained apologetically. His eyes drifted to the other patrons and outside the window, something in his mouth looking upset at his mistake. "London's had it rough," he remarked quietly.

"People of character are stronger in adversary," she paraphrased a quote from her father. He meant it as an insult to her she was sure.

The words seemed profound after she said them, the way that Steve considered her.

She cleared her throat. "Do you not go out to dinner with the girls in the show?"

He blushed, his eyes darting to the table as he crossed his arms along his chest. The fabric pulling at his shoulders again. "No, I don't."

She was confused. "But…they were giggling when they called goodbye. Isn't that a flirtatious gesture?"

He scratched his forehead, shifting in his seat forward and then leaning back. "I, well – they're nice girls."

He breathed a sigh, relaxing as her tea was set in front of her by Nancy, who winked at her. "Horrendously bitter," she announced cheerfully. Steve wrapped his hands around the glass of water and thanked Nancy. Komand'r nodded.

She was going to ask about the experiment, but in the cozy restaurant sitting across from him - she reframed, held in a bubble of questions that he might be unwilling and probably unlikely to answer.

He wasn't a scientist. No, she knew a soldier when she saw them, even when they wore costumes.

Instead she allowed an easy silence to drape over their table. Steve had manners, the way he folded his napkin, sat up straight, and politely sipped his water. Komand'r had both elbows on the table as she gulped her tea. And she was the Princess. How different was she after a year on Earth? Almost two years now.

"Is Genevieve your real name?" Steve asked.

She blinked quickly up at him, though her attention didn't drift away from him for more than a moment at a time.

"No," she answered easily.

He nodded, expecting that answer as he quietly watched her.

"A woman gave it to me," she continued. "It didn't seem _un_pleasant so I kept it."

"It's a nice name," he smiled, his eyes looking away.

The food was placed in front of them, her one plate and Steve's two.

She asked about his appetite, his metabolism, what happens if he goes hungry. It was fascinating when he told her he would get light headed, and just how much he needed to eat to sustain. She confessed her race was entirely different, her hands moving in excitement as she explained how her cells worked to capture energy from the sun. Which he explained sounded similar to a plant, and wondered why her skin wasn't green. Both of them were leaning forward across the table as they talked, their food long disappeared, when Nancy announced they were closing. Nancy's daughter giggled and Steve blushed as he apologized. They both stood outside the door to the restaurant, the staff cleaning up inside as they stood in the night air. Komand'r looked up at the stars, feeling wistful as the cloud cover disappeared for the night. Almost all of the lights in the city were out as Steve and she stood side by side. It was quiet, peaceful.

She smiled at him and his eyes widened when he noticed she wasn't wearing a jacket. He offered his own but she laughed, told him she could stand in snow and not feel a thing. He smiled in embarrassment, zipping up his own jacket as the two cabs Nancy called pulled up.

"Tomorrow?" She asked, determining if he still wanted to meet her in the morning.

He smiled, his profile almost glowing as he moved forward to open the door to her cab, giving a stalling gesture to his own. Her eyes, sharper in the dark lingered on his relieved face as they stood next to each other.

"The Berkeley. Five a.m.?" He repeated the agreed time at his hotel.

She nodded, her feet still hesitating as she stared at him. She shook herself out of it, smiling into her shoulder as she slid in.

"Tomorrow." She said again, this time resolutely as he shut the metal door gently.

Early the next morning, before the sun was up and the sky was a multitude of grey with a smell of oncoming rain, Komand'r arrived at the hotel in loose clothing and her hair braided back.

Steve was in the lobby in a white shirt and khaki pants, his hands stuffed in his pockets. When he saw her there was a palpable relief that went through them both, a sigh exchanged.

Her trainers tapped against the marble flooring as they greeted each other near a large circular table of polished wood with an oversized bouquet of flowers. Her nose wrinkled at the smell but she still smiled when they stopped inches apart, her hands folded behind her back as she rocked onto her heels.

Her eyes darted around the empty lobby. "I thought you should see Hyde Park before you leave."

She knew this was his first time overseas, and though she didn't know anything about New York, she was hoping he enjoyed London's gardens as much as she did.

"How far away is that?" He asked, his hands still in his pockets. The lobby was nearly empty but for a few staff, the large room hushed as they spoke.

"Six miles," he nodded back, rolling his shoulders in a stretch.

"Steady pace?" She asked, peeking over at him as they walked outside the hotel.

He nodded and they both started jogging until their pace matched. Steve maneuvered her to the inside as their feet tapped along the pavement.

Komand'r, who preferred people to be quiet more often than not, started asking him questions. How did he sleep? How often did he sleep? Eight hours a night. How often did she sleep? Maybe five hours in a week. They both thought the other answer was baffling. How did she sleep so little? How did he waste so many hours every day? Were all humans like that?

He started chuckling, showing no signs of laboring as they jogged. She wanted to ask about the experiment but sometimes he would shoot her looks, like he was waiting for them, and that made her push those questions back. When they entered the park she picked up the pace, he matched it, then she increased, and he matched it. And then he increased, and a full smile came to her face as she outright ran.

It was exhilarating, running as fast as she could, jumping forward when he pulled ahead. Her muscles extending in a way her body could remember and her mind almost couldn't. He was faster than her, but slowing down when she caught up, and then there was a family of ducks in the path. When they turned they were going too fast to stop, so Komand'r pushed off with one leg and jumped while Steve swerved out of the way, stumbling sideways as he righted himself, "Sorry!" He apologized earnestly.

She halted, her body rocking forward at the motion, turning to him in disbelief, catching his wide blue eyes before she started laughing. And laughing. Her body bent forward as she held her sides. Loud guffaws echoing in the air and scaring off the rest of the ducks.

"You apologized! To ducks!" She gasped out as she stumbled to the grass and fell to her side. Steve's legs walked forward in her line of sight when he bent down, and embarrassed but amused smile on his lips.

"I could have hurt them," he defended himself.

She nodded seriously, trying to keep her face straight and failing.

"I'm sorry," she got herself under control, still smiling. "That's something my sister would have done."

Some of the amusement died after she unthinkingly shared that information, but…thinking about Koriand'r wasn't as painful as she thought. She was thinking about the little girl, before the Academy, and sickness, and questions about ruling.

"Your sister?" He asked in interest.

"I-"she hesitated before giving an unsure nod, sitting up slowly. "She used to bring animals into her rooms, and once when a bird of hers died she cried for days, wearing Tam- my race's color for mourning."

His eyebrows were drawn together but his face was patient as he listened to her.

"It was ridiculous," she confessed. "She only had him for a few days. He broke his wings you see, and I told her he was better off, and she kept crying, praying to X'Hal for every creature to live forever." She looked down at her hands. "Some things are worse than death, and she did not understand that."

She looked back up, a quiet moment but for the scurrying of wildlife if the distant trees and the movement of the lake. His eyes looked a little bit grey in the light.

"What does your planet look like?" He moved to sit next to her, turning his head up through the canopy as he laid on his back. She looked over at him before slowly laying back too. The grass was soft where it tickled her neck, and she brought her braid forward to lie on her chest.

"It's beautiful," she summarized honestly. "There are sections, where lords and ladies oversea, before the country was united under one King." She paused thoughtfully. "I lived where it was very green, and very rainy. The forests stretch further than this city, with towering waterfalls and flora so bright and colorful it almost hurt your eyes. The sky is…green," she smiled up at the dark green leaves above them. "A very light color to match our seas, with swirls of blue and grey from the clouds. They move differently there, in circles."

"It sounds so different," he whispered quietly. She curved her head to look at him as he turned his eyes to her.

"Very different," she sighed. "Even the plants are different. They dance."

"Dance?" he repeated, not looking to believe her as he quirked a smile.

She nodded seriously, smiling. "They each communicate, the trees and the flowers and the grass, passing messages only they understand. All of nature is connected."

"Do you like here? On Earth?" He asked softly.

She sat up with a frown, her back to him as she looked at the water.

"I thought I did not," she answered after a moment, hearing him fidget in the grass. He stilled. "But I realize…I haven't seen much of it."

She turned her head into her shoulder as she cast her eyes back to him where he had sat up.

"Rainclouds are coming in. We should spar here." She announced, pushing off to her feet.

He didn't mention the rapid mood change but she saw him process it with a pensive brow as he climbed to his feet.

"Are you sure?" He asked, glancing around at the abandoned park. Other than the depression near the tree the ground was mostly smooth, only a bit hilly, and wide.

She gave a grin as she thought of a human phrasing she had heard and seen of the posters that littered the city. "The enemy gives no warning." And then she lunged.

He twisted away quickly as she sailed through the air, turning into a roll until she was crouched in front of him on the other side of the clearing. His knees were slightly bent, eyes narrowed on her as hers were equally intent. She pulled out of her crouch smoothly as they circled each other.

He was purely defensive as she moved against him, trying to strike him. She tried to bait him into attacking when she realized he wouldn't. "You won't hurt me, you are human after all." His expression didn't change, he refused to anger no matter what she said about humans. That or her insults were weak.

It took a few hits to get through his defenses before he finally started engaging. She watched his form, the play of his muscles in his arms, and stomach, and thighs, as he moved his body with equal flexibility to her own. He was light on his feet, carefully controlled while she stalked and circled him. She purposely put herself in vulnerable positions to see if he would take advance of it underhandedly, like slamming her face with his knee. He didn't.

She started grinning, sharply with adrenaline as their bodies pushed against each other. And then he delivered a solid punch to her stomach and swipe to her legs. And she tumbled down the small hill. She realized at the bottom that he had been leading her to that position.

She groaned as she twisted to her back, her braid loose.

"Are you okay?" He asked immediately, a little out of breath when he heard her groan.

"Beaten by a human," she grumbled. "I'll never live with the embarrassment."

He smiled, puffing out a breath as he extended a hand to her. She offered her own and he pulled her up easily, she wobbled a moment, her hands reaching out to press against his chest, right at his diaphragm that was still rising and falling at a quickened pace. His skin was warm. Her palms flattened as she looked down at them and he made an awkward noise in his throat.

"Is your skin always this warm?" She peeked up at his expression, her head still bent.

He cleared his throat, one hand at his side and the other half raised in the air, almost circling her waist, his palm inches from her back. "Yes," he nodded.

"Huh," she titled her head, dropping her hands as he dropped his. "Interesting."

He looked unsure as she smiled. "Where did you learn to fight?"

"Oh," he shrugged his wide shoulders, hands to his pockets and a flush on his face. She smelled just a twang of sweat. "Bucky, my best friend taught me." His tone was affectionate, his grin boyish again.

"When I was a kid," he continued. "I was small for my age, and sick most of the time, so I spent a lot of time at the gym, watching other guys' box. And then when – well I thought it was important for me to learn a few moves."

"So you learned mostly from watching?" She asked, intrigued.

He gave a half grin. "No. When the War started, Bucky and I went every day. Planning to enlist." He looked away, his brows pulled and an upset mouth as he looked over her shoulder.

Different things to say ran through her head, but she couldn't find the right one.

"You only won because I'm out of practice," she blurted instead.

His wide eyes went to her, and she bit her lip at the argumentative statement. But then he smiled. "Okay."

She looked back to the trail. "Do you want to walk it this time?" She avoided his eyes, as she walked on ahead. He came up a step behind her to her right.

His hands were in his pockets as he walked next to her, now able to take notice of the green park. And then it started to rain. Softly at first, dark little drops hitting the pavement before it picked up.

They both exchanged a look, a twitching smile before they ran under a large tree.

"It shall not last long," she informed him, turning to where he leaned against the trunk, peering into the downpour. The rain still came lightly through the leaves. The droplets ran down his face, flattened his hair against his forehead as he pushed it back. The smell of rain was heady, and both of their white shirts started to cling.

After one glance he turned his head away and avoided looking at her.

There was a small entrance into the park not far away, the wilderness giving way to the cement and bricks of the city.

"Want to make a run for it?" He turned his eyes back to her hardly a moment, droplets still running down his face.

The rain soaked through their clothing by the time they found an awning to stand under, their trousers plastered to their calves down and shoes waterlogged from the puddles they ran through. Her hair was only damp, given how thick it was, though now the braid had relaxed even more. She loosened the rest and rebraided it while Steve watched, standing steps away against the building as cars splashed by. Though it rained often, it was usually very moderate, so she knew it would relax soon enough.

"Do you know anywhere to get breakfast?" he shivered lightly, his arms crossed.

Human. No jacket. Soaked. Cold.

"Oh! You'll get sick!" She realized. Her eyes darted around in embarrassment. "There's an establishment there," she pointed, narrowing her eyes through the rain at what looked like a restaurant.

"I'm fine," he shook his head. She kept a wary eye on him but nodded anyway as they crossed the street.

There were quite a few people in the restaurant, umbrellas and jackets all clustered near the entrance with more than a few shaking off the water. Steve and she both got a share of disapproving looks. She stepped behind him subtly as she pulled the shirt from her skin. Her golden skin that looked very _not-pale_ in this light.

Steve turned his eyes back to her, confused at her reaction. But then his face softened as he placed a hand on her shoulder, his fingers catching a few strands of hair as he kept his body between hers and the patrons and led her to an available seat at the back.

She ducked her head, twisting it in a way to hide her face and felt annoyed for having to do it. People were still staring as they took their seats, Steve standing at her chair until she sat down, her back to the room.

There were goosebumps on his skin in the air conditioning room and he shivered again. She frowned.

"I'm fine," he smiled, catching her worried look.

They only stayed for coffee, an uncomfortable amount of time that Komand'r felt vulnerable with her back to the room as their clothes stopped dripping. When she stood up again and saw the puddle in her seat she laughed. Steve caught her eyes, his brows raising in question when she nodded to the puddles under the seat and then he laughed too, smiling with very blue eyes.

There was an older man underneath the awning with them, this one much larger while he waited for a cab. Steve and she sided up against the building, looking through the rain.

"I should have brought my jacket," he remarked aloud.

She nodded, looking down at her hands before glancing at him sideways. "When's your rehearsal?" She asked quietly.

The easy smile dropped a little, "Noon," he sighed.

She pursed her lips. "I have to get into the office today," she told him in the same tone.

"The office?" He asked in surprise.

She nodded. "I-"she swallowed. "I designed this weapon, non-harmful," she slid her eyes away, purposely not looking at him as she narrated in a controlled voice "and I've been asked to make more than I expected recently, after a mission went wrong. I could have more men assigned to it, but," she paused, feeling his eyes on her "I feel the less that know the formulas the better."

"Oh," she could see him nod, his face thoughtful. "Do you like doing that?"

"Excuse me?" She turned her head to him, her brows puckered.

"Do you like making weapons?" He asked genuinely.

She hesitated, staring at him as she tried to answer that. The rain continued to steadily pour. The man further down left the awning. They were alone.

"I like being useful I suppose." She shrugged, her mouth frowning as she stared into the streets. Her voice came out a little dark, a little tired. "It's a means to an end."

"Do you like acting?" She voiced as the thought went through her head.

His head leaned back. "It's a means to an end," he repeated, his tone wary.

"What would you rather do?" She questioned him.

"Fight," he answered after a moment, his voice sure.

"Fight," she repeated absently. The rain was now a drizzle.

They didn't move until an empty cab came down the street and Steve hailed it. Then he opened the door for her and they both slid in.

Steve's hotel was closer so he was going to be dropped off first.

Komand'r tapped her fingers against the leather as a jazz instrument carried through the radio.

"The painting," she voiced suddenly. He turned his eyes to her attentively. "The Birth of Venus…" she trailed off, thinking about her question. "Do you like it?"

She wanted to turn away but she didn't. Her voice was shy, not quiet the blasé she was trying to replicate as she peeked over at him, her clothes making squeaks against the leather as she turned.

He cleared his throat, his hands held between his knees in the suspended moment after her question. "Yes," he nodded quietly.

Her lips curved into a shadow of a smile as she looked away.

She bit her lip as they arrived at the hotel.

"I'll be back in London in a few weeks," his hand rested on the door handle but didn't move otherwise.

"I'll find you," she declared confidently.

He squinted at her, a bit of a smile on his face as he nodded. She followed his figure as he got out and paid the driver, telling him in an undertone that he was paying for her fare as well. She almost rolled her eyes, wondering if he underestimated how sharp her ears were. He turned at the entrance, their eyes meeting in the glass as the cab pulled away.

She felt…well something as their eyes disconnected, hoping she'd see Steve Rogers again.

* * *

**Note:** Tamaran descriptions are made up. How's Steve?

**Next Chapter**: Komand'r is in a bad mood. Howard comes back to London.


	6. Standby

**Note:** I wonder what Jensen Ackles would have been like as Captain America. Dean Winchester could have totally pulled it off. Actually, I prefer him for Batman over thou-who-shall-not-be-named.

* * *

**Part I  
Chapter Six: Standby**

It was funny how at first she used to scrutinize every human, assess them, deduce them, where were they weak, where were they strong. Now they blurred together in the minimal glances she passed over them. She hardly paid attention to the short human with thick glasses that hesitated at her side. She knew he was there, hadn't left after she gave him an account of the supplies she'd need, but she was only aware in an abstract sense. She was focused on the glove on her right hand – made of supple black leather with grey pads against the fingertips. She flexed slowly, feeling the constriction in the palm and the weight of the contraption against her wrist.

"There's an insufficient quantity of rubber-"

"Then get more," she ordered unconcerned.

"There is no 'more'-"

"Then borrow, buy, or steal. I do not care where you get it, just get it." She had to practice the stitching on Howard's lab coat before feeling ready to design the gloves. It was a learning experience for her.

He released another deep breath. "That's impossible," he tried again. "As I've been trying to tell you, the division does not have access to more rubber. Because Britain imports it from Malaya-"

"Then ask them," she interrupted. She lightly pressed the pads on her fingers to the table, to make sure the gloves would not set off without prompting.

He made a choking noise. Reluctantly she caught a glance of the ruddy flush to his face as his body clenched. "Malaya is in the Pacific. Where we're at war with Japan. Which you would know," he gritted out "if you knew anything about _human_ affairs."

It was only the lightest emphasis, but her body stilled as she slowly turned unblinking eyes and caught him in her gaze. Her lips curved, though it was the furthest thing from a smile as she slowly stood and glided towards him. Then she lightly extended her index finger and pressed against the skin above his collar.

His body seized as he collapsed to the floor. A stillness went through the room as the action garnered attention.

She stared at the prone body without expression for only a slow blink before she stepped over him.

"I'd advise someone to check if he's still breathing," she threw over her shoulder.

She wasn't bothered for the rest of the day.

Which was a shame really, because she missed the interesting transmission from Italy.

* * *

After Steve left Komand'r started to question the experience, her easy smiles and the lightness in her chest. And then all good feelings evaporated. Whatever kinship she self-imposed on him felt hollow in new light. Her actions embarrassed her.

She abandoned all pretenses of being _human._ She stopped slinking away to unused rooms to work, stopped stepping out to feel the sunlight on the little skin humans permitted her to show, stopped eating in diners, and stopped sleeping in her meager flat. She stayed in the labs, working and designing without rest for two weeks. She produced another two hundred Knockout Balls before she ran out of synthetic rubber. So she asked for more.

Well, there was no more, as the second scientist explained in careful words, his eyes drifting to her hands. Resources were limited. And shoes were a higher priority than weapons, or something. It was different with Howard, he had connections, power, money, and a position as a military contractor. Komand'r was basically another agent working for a nation in war debt surviving on rationing. If she avoided the nuisances of announcing to the government she was alien, then she missed the benefits as well.

She finally left the base, walking to her apartment on weakened limbs and blurred vision. She pushed herself too long without nourishment, sleep, or sunlight. It was a destructive combination that promised a coma induced slumber.

A persistent series of knocks on the door woke her from a very deep sleep. She didn't open her eyes, continuing to lay immobile on the bed as the knocking stopped and the door opened. She could smell something waxy, engine oil, and expensive cologne. Ah.

"Hello Howard."

There was a pause.

"That's impressive and unnerving," he informed her, coming further into the room, his soft leather shoes tapping along the wooden floor. She stretched out slowly, still drugged from sleep as her mind oriented itself.

"I was expecting a better greeting. For one, I had assumed you would be in the office. "

She gave a heavy sigh when her body relaxed, blinking upwards before she turned her head towards Howard. He looked the same as he did three months ago, his clothing expensive and pressed, his nails still holding the smell of engine oil, his hair meticulously manicured. He was looking around the small living space passively before gingerly sitting at the foot of her too small bed. The sheets were thin, and the bed and nightstand were the only furniture in the apartment. It wasn't an environment he was used to, she could tell. It wasn't an environment she was used to either.

"A man of less ego would be chaffed by your lack of enthusiasm." He remarked dryly, his thin mustache twitching. "But after seeing the way you mutilated my coat, and hearing the horror stories of your actions in my absence…I can only determine our parting has been a great burden to your psyche."

She held back a smile, feeling glad for his humor.

"I'm sorry," she sat up languidly "but do I know you? You seem familiar…" she trailed off.

He gave a small chuckle. "Did you truly throw a paperweight into the wall?" He raised an elegant brow.

"I might recall something of that nature," she blinked drolly.

"Were you aiming for Agent Nelson's head?"

"Please," she scoffed imperiously. "If I was aiming for his head_, I would have hit his head_."

"And did you give Agent Peters an electric shock?" He turned his body, bringing his right leg to rest on the bed.

She could not suppress the satisfied grin. He shook his head at her disapprovingly, his lip twitching.

"Why are you here?" She drained the water by the bed, feeling better after she lubricated her throat, though still thirsty.

"Peggy gave me your address." He answered easily, smoothing down his silk tie.

"No," she shook her head. "I mean, why are you in London?"

The question surprised him, his eyebrows arched high on his forehead for a moment before they smoothed out. "How long have you been out of the office?"

She looked out the window, though she had no way of knowing how long she slept. "I've been sleeping," she shrugged. But she had an instinct it had been longer than a few days.

He looked about to question that statement before redirecting. "The division in Italy is being reassigned here." He shook his head at her "You have no clue what's been going on?"

"I find ignorance relaxing," she bit out sarcastically.

A small smirk flirted across his lips. "That explains your lack of reaction."

She stared him down impatiently while he slowly divulged.

"Schmidt's factory was destroyed, after…well it's quite the story." He smiled in bemusement. "But more importantly the men brought back these guns – they're" his brown eyes turned serious "you need to see them. I think you're right about this Cube, and I think Schmidt was able to harness the energy into weapons."

"Show me," she demanded immediately, all casual teasing gone.

* * *

"How barbaric," were the first words out of her mouth after examining the large gun.

Howard was standing next to her while she twisted the gun in her hands. The entire base was loud with activity, both the labs and the technicians. And true to Howard's word, there was a paperweight buried into the bricks and plaster.

"Barbaric?" The Colonel's gruff voice intruded.

She nodded without turning her head, her eyes on the bright blue glow packed into the clip.

"The way its harnessed is very…well, obviously designed by a human," she observed ruefully.

"If you want me to be properly insulted you'll have to explain," she smiled at the deadpan tone when the Colonel sided up across from her. Howard was approached by one of the scientist, drifting a little ways to converse with the man.

"Well," she began "advance races fall into two categories. One, those who use – well, technically we'll say three categories but let's ignore pacifists – one, those who fight with swords and arrows, warriors who believe in defeating an opponent through skill, marksmanship, duels," she waved a generalizing hand. The Colonel listened in interest. "And the other who destroy completely – not just other soldiers but any in their path, preferably at a distance. They use…" she fell into another moment where there was no English word to relate. "Lights," she cringed at the over- simplification and the unbelieving look on his face. "You know the dangers of high voltage electricity, yes?" He nodded, the disbelieving look fading. "It's similar to that," she nodded. "Have you seen how this weapon is deployed?"

"I have," the Colonel gravely nodded as he stared down at the gun. "On a tree, burned a hole right through the center as easily as a hot knife through butter. The men said it completely destroyed a person when fired at them, left behind black ash."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "Completely destroyed?"

He nodded, a wary eye on the weapon as it thumped back on the table. Her mind whirled at the thought, bullets made her cautious, but this? This weapon could destroy her.

"Is this the only weapon Schmidt developed?" She tried to shake off the shock. "If he harnessed the Cube's energy into bombs…"

The Colonel solemnly nodded. "Tanks too, but no sign of explosions."

"But that's only a matter of time," Howard walked back to her side, his hand briefly touching her shoulder before it dropped. She feigned a small smile.

"The experiment is set up, do you want to partake?" He titled his head at her.

She nodded easily.

"I'll be in the War Room," the Colonel announced to them both, clapping his hands before walking away.

Howard smiled, hands in his pockets as he rocked back on his heels. "Let's learn more about this mysterious Cube energy, hmm?"

"I'm surprised it was not the first thing you did when you arrived," she cast her eyes sideways to him as he led her to the room.

"I wanted you to be there. Plus, since the flight got in last night I've been sharing my designs for a new team the Colonel is outfitting."

One of the agents who had left with Howard was standing in the room with a clipboard. The mechanics were set up behind the glass, with the clip positioned in the center.

"New team?" She asked distractedly before shaking her head. "Do you think this glass is strong enough?"

Howard looked unconcerned. "I'm only going to test a small amount, if there's a reaction it will be slight."

And when the high pitched charge pierced the air, she ducked automatically as the glass blew and Howard was thrown across the room. He scrambled against the wall, his hair tousled and expression dazed.

"Aluminum oxynitride," she decided "the greatest gift I will ever give you."

* * *

They moved to Howard's office, though scientists continued to scurry in and out wanting Howard's opinion and approval. Komand'r started describing the transparent aluminum and its benefits when she became annoyed at his divided attention.

"What are you working on?" She smacked her palms down on his desk and leaned over for a look at the sketches. Half of the desk was taken over with sketches of her own, and piled on top was Howard's recent additions. She could make out the male profile of the sheet, and Howard's small handwriting to the side.

"Hmm?" he looked up at her distractedly before turning to the scientist "Get Rogers measurements first, we'll need him to come in to test out a prototype before we potentially waste materials."

"Uniforms?" Komand'r asked in surprise. "I thought the Colonel determined any improvements were not cost effective."

It was one of her first lessons working with the S.S.R., cost effective was more important than 'brilliance' in Howard's words and 'alien voodoo' in the Colonel's.

"He did," Howard waved off the man. "Different rules for specialized units. They have better privileges than the common solider."

Her brows furrowed at the surprising news. "Specialized units? The Colonel is changing his strategy?"

"Well…" he drawled out. "After Captain America saved four hundred prisoners of war-"

"Excuse me?" She cut him off quickly.

"After-"he blinked, tilting his head at her. "What use is your superior hearing if you never listen to gossip?" He shook his head in exasperation.

"You're one of the only humans I can stand to listen to," she waved off.

His lips curved into a smile as he leaned back in his chair. "Well, as far as attractive aliens go-"

"Captain America rescued the men? That's why you're back in London?" She cut him off again.

His smile dropped as he sat back up in his chair. "Oh how the tides have turned," he remarked wistfully. "Once it was the name Howard Stark that threw women into a tizzy."

"Captain America," she reminded him forcefully.

His brown eyes narrowed on her. "What's got you so hot?" He wondered pensively. "You avoid human interaction like its leprosy. But you know who Captain America is?"

"Is that so strange?" She crossed her arms as he watched her.

"I still have to remind you who FDR is." He raised a brow at her.

"The King of America," she shrugged indifferently.

He rolled his eyes but still didn't budge.

"Fine," she tossed her head casually as she threw open the office door.

"If I ever decide to go on a rampage," she announced loudly to the busy office. "I promise not to harm the person who can tell me what happened in Italy, as it pertains to Captain America."

Nervous eyes shot in her direction. Howard strode towards the door and shut it with his palm.

"No need to harass the help," he smirked before striding back behind his desk. Komand'r twisted her body back in his direction, her arms still crossed as she stared him down. "I doubt it will help human-alien relations." He waited for a reaction before rolling back his shoulder.

"Captain America was there on an USO tour." She nodded along, already knowing that. "And the week before Schmidt captured three hundred men as his prisoners."

"The extra hundred?" She wondered, her arms slowly falling back to her sides.

"Stragglers. Survivors. All transferred to that factory. French, British, Canadians, even some Italians against Mussolini." He shrugged. "And thanks to the daring of a dashing pilot," he smirked at her openly. She rolled her eyes. "Who skillfully dodged enemy fire, he was parachuted down near Schmidt's factory, infiltrated, released the men, confronted Schmidt, blew up the factory, and then walked thirty miles back to base."

"And his name is Steve Rogers?" She looked down at the desk as she asked. Her shoulders were tight and her hands clenched.

"Yes," he answered slowly. "Curious that you know his name."

"And you dropped him off?" She asked with equal carefulness. "In the enemy's very fortified base…alone?"

There was a pause as he shifted.

"I want to say yes, but I feel like I shouldn't," he voiced warily.

Her mouth tightened before she sighed heavily.

"I believe there are many idioms that express the same ideal. What's done is done," she sat down into the chair.

"Should I hide the paperweight?" he broached with cautious humor.

"Not today," she gave a practiced smile before touching the back of her braid out of habit.

"Do you want me to go over the transparent aluminum?" She folded her hands in her lap and sat up straighter, her tone striving for professional.

"No," he said slowly. "Well, yes, but…" he crossed his arms over the desk and leaned in. "I want to know how _you know_ Steve Rogers."

"I met him."

"But how did you meet him?" He persisted.

"What does it matter?"

He continued to stare at her. "It doesn't," he determined lowly. "It really doesn't."

She nodded, still feeling wary. "Good."

There was a light tapping on the door. "Stark," the scientist peeked his head through the door, he gave a nod to her before his eyes went back to Howard. One of the ones that left to Italy. She could tell by the lack of wariness. "The motorcycle arrived, but the engines going to need some modification, if-"

"I'll take a look," Howard stood up, dusting off his trousers.

She raised an eyebrow, not expecting him to leave.

"He should be with the Colonel." Howard announced.

"Sir?" The scientist hesitated. Howard's eyes flickered to hers and held for a beat before he clapped the other man on the shoulder and led him out.

She frowned before realization dawned. Oh.

He was here. With the Colonel. In the War Room. Steve was here.

She stared at the wide wooden desk, at the scattering of Howard's and her designs before she stood. And left.

* * *

**Note:** Aluminum oxynitride is from Star Trek. It's lighter and stronger than bulletproof glass. And Star Trek is cool.

Had a Gone with the wind quote to be cleverly relevant but I tossed it because it wasn't funny. Or, I'll just say it's my way of opposing their Best Picture Academy Award over Wizard of Oz.

Was going to have Steve in this chapter, but…oh well, next chapter. And the Howling Commandos at the bar. And a proposition that I've hinted at will be coming.

Am I discouraged at the lack of reviews? No, yes, maybe.  
I'll write a review template for those who are only passively reading: I read this. It was not awful.


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